


The Final Cost

by Peladonww



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 12:58:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11336019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peladonww/pseuds/Peladonww
Summary: Characters belong to whosoever the law says they do, and I'm content.AU on the confontation in Dale written on the assumption that if she pointed the arrow at him there are only two possiblie motivations, either she meant to use it or she was one of the most pathetic 'look at me' drama queens ever created. This works to the first of those two options.





	The Final Cost

The Final Cost  


Somehow she had expected him to halt when he saw her, to remain where he was, but he did not. Her first miscalculation. 

Instead he outpaced his hovering guard and advanced down the narrow path towards her, his expression cold and hard; his anger and contempt written clearly in both his face and movements.

Somehow she had imagined that he would remain silent, awed by her taunts and her eloquence, that was her second miscalculation.

For all the time he advanced he answered her, his honeyed voice streaming words she did not want to hear. Words that she would not listen to.

He came to a halt just a swords distance from her, close enough for her to read the fury and irritation in his eyes as he looked down at her, his only desire to be past her and concerned with other things. 

Somehow she had thought that the those others present would support her in her claims and demands, that they would smile their admiration and whisper words of support to her, that they would seek to sway the King to her wishes, and that was her third miscalculation. 

Behind him his guards looked at her cold faced, with angry contempt even, their distain for her actions too obvious to misconstrue. Undaunted she closed her mind to their expressions and focussed her attention upon him alone.

She wanted to hurt him, oh how she wanted to hurt him. That he had protected her from her youth did not matter, that he had given her a life of meaning and a place of respect when she had lost everything did not matter, that he had been her family did not matter. All she knew was her bitterness, her anger and the desire to hurt.

What did she have to fear after all? Legolas was only a pace or two away and so she was safe from him, the son would not allow the father to exact revenge for her threats. But then he was the king and he would not drip the blood of his own upon his crown, no he would not hurt her. He would give way to he, what choice would he have?

Yet there was no sign of uncertainty in the king's eyes, no air of apology hung around him, no hint that he might relent. She had drawn his son away from him to show him her power and still he would not give her what she wanted, and so she would hurt him as much as she could. Hurt might yet prevail.

The arrow was at her bowstring in a trice, her aim unwavering, her eyes were narrowed in anger and her voice was a hiss of hate. He would know the true measure of her rage.  
'There is no love in you'  
There it was said, now he knew and he would suffer for it for ever.

She waited for him to hang his head, to beg for her forgiveness and to admit his fault, yet he did none of those thing. Instead he came closer, his blue eyes holding hers with the force of his knowing, his years of living, as much as his kingship, and all the time his honeyed voice poured out those words she did not want to hear. Words that told her he would not capitulate, that suggested that he knew the truth.

For a second he looked away as if he could no longer hold his irritation in check and a momentary tensing of his arm told her that he was preparing to disarm her.

Did she mean to let the arrow fly? She was not sure, only that as he turned back towards her she knew that he would not give way. There was a split second when time seemed to freeze and all she could see was the ice in those blue eyes and the angry set of his jaw and she knew that she had made her final throw and had lost. With a hiss similar to those of her words the arrow flew and there was no time to turn it away even had she wished to.

He had not considered kinslaying and quick as he was he realised too late and she was too close. The arrow took him in the eye and he, her protector and her king, must have been dead before he fell. But she could not be sure because she did not stay to see, instead she turned and ran before his guards recovered from their shock. Behind her she heard Legolas cry out, but she gave it no thought as she ran, stumbling over broken stone and icy cobbles with her bow clutched in her hand, until she thought they would have lost her in the battle and the snow. All thoughts of Legolas and his loss were pushed aside, her only remaining concern being to leave the City before the battle was over and the inevitable pursuit began.

At the broken city walls she turned for a moment to look behind her but there was nothing but war to be seen, turning her back on that she stared out towards Ravenhill and realised that there was no sanctuary there for her any longer. For a moment she hesitated but as the eagles came speeding down the wind to aid the embattled forces of the light she turned south towards the river and her only remaining escape.

By the next sunrise she was in the footthills of the mountains.

She heard later that Legolas left that day and never returned to Mirkwood, where he went she did not know but it seemed likely that, if he survived his grief and guilt, he sailed west. 

Without their Sindar king the Sylvan elves of Mirkwood returned to the old ways, the Realm of Mirkwood fragmenting into small groups of elves either living in the forests or wandering across the lands of the south and east, a few made their way to other elven colonies but their welcome was wary and grudging and most moved on again. The last great Elven kingdom died with the last great Elvenking, leaving the forest and its inhabitants unprotected.

Time passed and she wandered the edges of the world making what shifts she could to survive, avoiding contact with elf and dwarf alike. In the east Sauron rose again as Thranduil had always held he would, and when the the One Ring surfaced in the Shire he sent out his armies across the world to wage war. It was said that Elrond and the wizard tried to destroy the Ring, sending it out in the charge of a Hobbit to Mount Doom, but the quest failed and though Sauron never regained the ring it was not destroyed.

When the War of the Ring began she gathered her remaining courage and returned to Mirkwood to join with those that might be left there to defend the wood, only to find the King's halls were abandoned and her kin were gone, nothing of value remained to be defended except the forest itself. Even so she remained there wandering the great stone halls that Thranduil had built to protect his people, spending her time recalling days gone by.

It was from the king's balcony that she saw the forest start to burn. As the smoke curled into the autumn air she put her hands over her ears in an attempt not to hear the cries of the trees and the forest life, running to the empty throne of the Woodland Realm to hide herself in its shadow.

As she heard the tramp of the approaching Easterlings she wondered what difference an Elvenking might have made.

**Author's Note:**

> End Notes
> 
> Apologies to Tolkein who knew both war and love for real and who would never have been so crass nor so foolish.
> 
> I really should avoid the 'lets forgive Tauriel her awfulness' stories because my mind always responds with something like this. Ah well my head said it had to be written.


End file.
